Friday, October 10, 2014

Children's Comics as Art

First some more wonderful episodes of Burp, as Jeremy Banx continues to utilise the extra page given to him to good affect. (Check out that sun with Burp's ship silhouetted against it). Thanks to Laura Howell for sending me a scan of an episode I haven't got any more-the tragic tale of Quentin De'Augg, who doesn't have that special gland we all possess that secretes a chemical that prevents us from becoming canine beasts of the night. An absolute genius set up. 

By the way, due to some bad printing the health warning at the bottom of the first episode below was cut off from my copy. If anyone knows what it says, please tell me! 






And now Banx's own favourite episode, and mine too, the wonderful 'Sand Planet'. 


It begins like Frank Herbert's Dune, but instead of parody Banx resorts to a sort of sci-fi poetry. I'm thinking at this point he was just revelling in the opportunity to explore language in a kid's comic about a stinky alien, and seeing what he could get away with. The result is brilliant. He tosses out this paragraph: "Silica..the sand planet...where there is only the relentless dusty horizon...save for the gravitational anomaly waves that lovingly sculpt the sands into ever writhing cusps of gold..."

Now that's ambituious children's comics writing. Why should kids be talked down to in comics when  they can get the meaning from the visual context if they don't quite have the vocabulary? Talking as an ex-teacher I was always told to pitch things at a higher level to stretch the students-a logical thing to do. This is something I think comics are doing very wrong now-more on that in a post to come. 

Anway, how rarely is the medium utilised as well as this? Banx effortlessly employs this gorgeous prose to serve a brilliant punchline. Anyway, read it. You'll love it. And there's more just as good to come! 



Friday, June 13, 2014

You're cutting off my arterial flow, you nit!

My first blog post of the year and it's only June. If only every blogger was as efficient as me we could bring down the North Korean government, oil money swollen Fifa and lovable evil buffoon Boris Johnson in one swell foop. But that's another post for another day, right now I am concerned only with bringing to you, my wonderful imaginary reader, more episodes of Jeremy Banx' classic Burp! strip. Here we will see Burp hurtling toward it's artistic zenith with gathering speed.



The extra space afforded to the strip allows Banx to explore the surrealism of his world and the interplay of the characters as they say one ridiculous thing after another. This particular strip is still firmly in the humour mold of the previous thirty-odd pages, but the premise of this strip-getting Cary Grant tattoeed on your tongue is a leap forward in thematically insane theming, and the final image! Where did that come from? Why is the Lone Ranger a dog? 

Over the next few strips, the surreal madcap humour gives way to a more controlled weirdness. Next, Burp breaks his liver out of Sing-Sing. Three high points for me: The tractor beam, the inexplicable old-fashioned cannon and the line, 'I want him to biliously process it for me, as only he can!'. 




I haven't spoken much about the artwork, but in this one you can see Banx' preternatural ability to draw strange, doom-laden military style buildings and machinery. It's the sort of thing he'd showcase later in his marvellous book 'The Many Deaths of Norman Spittal' 


Speaking of superb artwork, very soon my own work will be appearing in an exhibition organised by the self-same ubermensch, Mr Jeremy Banx. It's called Pastiche, Parody and Piracy and it's on at the Cob Gallery in London's fashionable NW1 from the 20th of June to the 5th of July. Click here for details and stuff.

Next post (and it won't be as long this time) a slight misstep followed by pure capitalised ART.



Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Double acts and Greek myths

This post is partly about how Useleus, the strip Wilbur Dawbarn and I created for the Phoenix came about and what led to making the central decisions that shaped its dynamic. We'd talked about making a strip together to pitch to the Phoenix, but it wasn't a serious thought until a lot of bits and pieces fell into place around an idea I had scrawled into a sketchbook. The idea began as little more than a name: 'Useleus'.

One of the things I wanted to do was to build a strip around a double act relationship. This was a reaction against Nuke Noodle, my strip for The Dandy, which was a one-man show. With a double act you can get humour in every page if you set up the right dynamic. You don't need an antagonist or people falling over to create humour, you can find it in every exchange. And of course, when you throw an antagonist in there, you've got two characters to react against. Here's a sequence from one of the Useleus strips. I've selected it not only because it highlights what I'm talking about, but because of the beautiful first panel-Wilbur's got a knack for melding goofy characters and evocative locations wonderfully.
The Minotaur is such a wonderful creation-an iconic creature, I had to nab him for this strip. The only problem with the Minotaur is that he's a berserk killer monster who lives in a labyrinth-not much to work with. Here's how it went... I had Useleus' name and so his character had to follow from that- although I didn't have his age-and what I felt was needed as a foil was a sensible stick-in-the-mud type. Whilst researching Greek myths I stumbled upon the story of Chiron, a centaur who was Achilles' teacher and then everything fell into place. I made Useleus into Achilles' younger brother, a constant disappointment to his father but from a line of heroes and thus having hero pretentions of his own, and I made the Minotaur into his teacher. Reversing the character of the Minotaur leant him more humour, and gave him a mysterious backstory that I could play with. 

Incidentally, it wasn't until I'd seen how Wilbur worked with the characters in the first one or two episodes that I felt I saw the characters completely clearly, and could nail them in subsequent scripts. That's what happens with comic strips, they develop and mature and characters evolve. 

In Useleus I found I could have a grand scheme-what becomes of Useleus and how does the Minotaur get his fearsome reputation? To hint at that, I decided to make the introductory narration come from a much older Minotaur, retelling the tales to add to the strip the feel of a legend.

And lastly we went from the Minotaur to plain 'Minotaur'. In the mythology his name is Asterion, but Wilbur felt it sounded too much like Asterix, so we went with just Minotaur-which rather nicely simplified things as it happens.

Speaking of Asterix, here's my top 5 comic double acts. Feel free to write 'What about Calvin and Hobbes!' in the comments section. 

1. Asterix and Obelix.

Can't beat 'em; the perfect combination, physically, intellectually, everythingly. The genius of Asterix is manyfold but one of the greatest things about it is how authentic the relationship feels. Witness the way they get screaming angry at each other, sulk and then embrace in tears. In Asterix and the Banquet, only the fifth book in the series, Obelix can confidentally say:

And we believe him 100%.

2. Loady McGee and Sinus O'Gynus (adults only, kids-don't think of googling them)

The world's most disgusting loser and his nerd pal. Loady frequently betrays and often kills Sinus in the most horrible way possible. Johnny Ryan's creations are mesmerisingly hideous, but somehow also feel like a saturday morning cartoon. 


3. Thompson and Thomson.

Another genius creation and totally breaks the mould of double acts by having two identikit characters. Would it have worked if Hergé had had only one Thompson? Nah. One person falling down the stairs is not that funny, but when two people who look exactly the same do it either in unison or one after the other, it's always funny. 

4. Twain & Einstein

Micheal Kupperman's bizarre pulp story-style teaming of these two because they look vaguely alike is one of the funniest things on earth. 


5. Zubrick and Pogeybait (also adults only)

A personal favourite of mine. Check out early issues of Daniel Clowes' Eightball for these two ugly, moronic losers. 







Thursday, December 5, 2013

Poetry Corner

I wrote a silly children's poem a few years ago called 'Iʼve got an egg-shaped planet in my Grandadʼs hat.' It's a bit rough around the edges, but I present it to you now for your edification. 



Outside the school stood a Ron and a Ruth,
As an Eric revealed a terrible truth,
“I havenʼt created my project for Science!”
“I suppose I could bring a kitchen appliance.”

Ruth, who was clever and good and annoying,
Claimed, (in a way that was soul destroying),
“I have built a volcano from tissues and glue!”
“It rumbles and bubbles and spews out shampoo!”

“Itʼs so realistic, youʼll scamper away,”
“Your pants will fall down, youʼll move to Bombay!”
“Big deal,” said Ron, “I can beat that.”
“Iʼve got an egg-shaped planet in my Grandadʼs hat.”

“Itʼs got sixteen moons of different sizes.”
“It will definitely win all of the prizes.”
“When I show my project to Mr. McThing,”
“Heʼll bow down on his knees and proclaim me the King.”

“On my planet are mountains and rivers,”
“As a classroom project, it really delivers.”
“The mountains are orange and purple and green,”
“One of themʼs hairy and itʼs name is Francine.”

“The rivers have faces and hands and moustaches,”
“The clouds are so clever they have to wear glasses.”
“There are many species of animals there,”
“Thereʼs a kind of giraffe with the head of a bear.”

“There are monsters with teeth coming out of their heads,”
“And a big fat bird with upside-down legs.”
“There are people too, but theyʼre not like us,”
“Their houses can walk and they sleep on the bus.”

“Their faces are bigger than the rest of their body,”
“In the winter they hum a relaxing melody.”
“The tune makes the trees, which are yellows and reds,”
“Chop themselves down and convert into beds.”

“The rainbows are lazy and lie on the ground,”
“They snore with a high-pitched, wobbly sound.”
“I once saw a lion with six legs and no face,”
“Get caught by a hamster after a chase.”

“The hamsters are vicious on this particular land,”
“Theyʼre massive and smelly and ought to be banned.”
“Down at the bottom of one special valley,”
“Lives the King who will form my great big finale.”

“This boss of the people, whoʼs name is Dunbar,”
“Rides around with a swan on top of a car.”
“The swan (who goes by the name of Dagnabbit),”
“Thinks like a swan, but looks like a rabbit!”

“All this I have spied through my big telescope,”
“I look in the thick end and out through some soap.”
Ruth looked at Eric, Eric at Ruth,
They didnʼt believe that this was the truth.

Ron noted their unenthusiastic reaction,
And came up with a plan of positive action.
“Iʼll bring it tomorrow and then you will see.”
“If Iʼm lying use me as a comfy settee.”

“But if in fact Iʼm telling the truth,”
“Then Iʼll sit on you, Eric, and then on you, Ruth.”
The three friends agreed that this was quite fair,
And they all hoped they wouldnʼt have to act like a chair.

The very next morning, inside the school gates,
Three children arrived who were very good mates.
One with a volcano, one with a freezer,
And one with no nothing, an unhappy geezer.

Once in the classroom, Mr. McWhoʼs-He,
Said, “Out with your projects. I must have a look-see.”
“Ron,” Said the teacher, with tears in his eyes,
“You have no creation? Iʼm very surprised.”

“I did make a planet, with rivers and moons,”
“With dancing leopards and purple baboons.”
“I kept it inside my Grandfatherʼs hat,”
“I thought it was safe to leave it like that.”

“The problem you see, is a hound I call Janet,”
“Mister, that dog has eaten my planet!”
“Detention, detention!” Cried the teacher quite loud,
“I wonʼt hear this nonsense in front of a crowd.”

At lunchtime, relaxing, were Eric and Ruth,
And under them lay a miserable youth.
“I really did make that wonderful land,”
“It was egg-shaped and could fit in the palm of my hand.”

“There were forests that flew, with trees like kebabs,”
“Marble-cake lobsters and battenburg crabs.”
“But Janet ensured that the planet is over,”
“And now Iʼm condemned to act as your sofa.”

“Quiet down you! Sofas canʼt talk.”
“Weʼve had enough of your whinging, weʼll go for a walk.”
And as Ruth and Eric strolled off and left Ron,
Ruth noticed a tiny white dot by the pond.

“Wait, whatʼs that thing? Oh drat, now itʼs gone,”
“It looked like a rabbit that thinks like a swan.”

















Illustration by Evgenia Barinova

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Black Ideas

I was sitting in a pub one day and got talking to a French chap about comics and how much they mean to me. The subject of Asterix came up and he hit me with an opinion that totally floored me: Uderzo was a hack who copied his style! Apparently there was another Belgian artist, André Franquin, who was the originator of that style. He wasn't someone I'd ever heard of so I did some research and found that the truth was a little different to that accusation, but I'm thankful anyway to that guy for turning me onto this amazing artist. Franquin, of whom Hergé said, 'Compared to him, I'm a poor draftsman' was an incredibly influential artist and creator of two of the most recognised characters in French comics: Marsupilami, a Marsupial/monkey thing and Gaston Lagaffe, the scruffy inventor kid.

As Franquin's style developed, more and more movement lines appeared and he imbued each frame with an incredible kind of fluidity that you can see above. One of Franquin's contemporaries was Morris (Maurice de Bevere, creator of Lucky Luke), and both were tutored by Jijé (Joseph Gillian). Along with another artist known as Will (Willy Maltaite), these four went on to dominate French comics. They are known as 'The Gang of Four' and the style they developed is called the Marcinelle School. Among these four, Franquin was most influential, which led to a large number of artists heavily influenced by his style. Of the second generation of the Marcinelle School were Peyo (Pierre Culliford, creator of the Smurfs) and a certain artist called Albert Uderzo. 

How is it possible that ALL these geniuses were Belgian? It's quite amazing. 

Franquin suffered from depression and in 1977 his work shifted towards a much bleaker series which he called 'Idees Noires'. Although still clearly humourous, these short black and white strips came from a darker place. They feature encounters with death and nightmarish creatures, the horrors of modern society; rampant capitalism and militarism for example, and the end of humanity. I find these cartoons fascinating. They are of course beautifully drawn, and unfortunately a lot of them are not particularly funny, but the place they come from is so stark and so singular a vision; it's quite unique and yet firmly in the tradition of humour strips in french comics. It's also worth noting that this stuff appeared in a kids comics! 

I've translated three strips as best I can. The first is a simple joke about suicide, highlighting Franquin's incredible draftsmanship. The second is a comment on the consequences of being one of those doing the policing in society. The third is a sci-fi story, about a criminal and his punishment. (sorry about the blurred final panel). Hope you like them as much as me. 










Thursday, November 21, 2013

Asterix and the misfiring book

There's a huge issue taking up most of the airtime, column inches and bandwidth of every media outlet in the world right now, as I'm sure you know. The issue is this: Why is the new Asterix book not that good? Well I've decided to add my own 'thoughts' to the mix, although they can only loosely be categorised as that.

The book certainly feels authentic, as the new writer has chosen as his topic a new tribe, ripe with silly customs to lampoon and silly names to play with. Yet unlike the Spanish, who Goscinny brilliantly wrote as a group of haughty, arrogant matadors, the Picts don't have much discernible personality at all. Instead, John-Yves Ferri dwells on tartan and body paint with endless jokes about different colours. It sort of works, but not very well, but what really doesn't is lead Pict Macaroon's tendency to speak every now and again in Scottish verse, written in a celtic font. I've no idea what this device adds to the story. It certainly isn't funny. Maybe it is in French.

The first half of the book I quite enjoyed, and it sets up the story rather well. There's some good jokes about 'pictograms', tossing the caber, freezing people in ice and the usual array of amusing names (my favourite being the Pictish druid Macrobiotix). There's the women of the Gaulish village fawning over the frozen Pict, the Roman census guy (Although why the village which isn't part of the Roman Empire would let him count them I don't know) and there's Nessie, but none of these elements really come together later to create a good second half.



The big fight at the end with the Picts and Romans falls rather flat, and is just not as good as the earlier fight with the pirates. The census guy doesn't really get a big finish and as for Nessie...she's just not utilised as well as she could be. There was a bad decision made along the way in Asterix and the Picts and that was to leave Dogmatix at home. Imagine Dogmatix and Nessie getting on each other's nerves or fancying each other. Massive comedic potential missed and for no reason at all! It's just another weird thing about this book. 
There's also a bit where Asterix and Obelix shout at each other and then it's immediately forgotten. Why? Is it just a tip of the hat to those sequences in other books? The thing is, Goscinny used those moments to move the story along and deepen Obelix and Asterix's relationship. Even more baffling is this frame below where the drunken roman suddenly calls Maccabaeus the Pict chief by another name. Does he drunkenly mistake him for someone else? Is it a joke? Why does he say 'our priest'? Did they just want to slip in a joke that plays on the name McVicar? This frame is going to keep me awake at nights.

But the artwork, by Belanos! It is pitch perfect. Dider Conrad has done quite a remarkable impression of Uderzo. There are images that are perhaps slightly cuter or more Disneyfied, but overall it's a hell of an achievement.

So, in summary, this book doesn't really add anything of significance to the Asterix canon. It's a good attempt and I'm looking forward to Ferri upping his game for the next one. Perhaps it's a question of momentum-the more your write the better you become at it. Of course the elephant in the room with Asterix will always be René Goscinny. The guy was a genius and I doubt anyone can do Asterix better than he. Uderzo certainly couldn't-but at least with his solo books he was pushing Asterix in new directions. This feels like familar territory that Goscinny had already mined for every juicy laugh he could.




Friday, October 18, 2013

More Burp

Since I last posted episodes of Burp from the pages of Oink, I've had the pleasure of meeting Jeremy Banks, the creative mastermind behind the strip and what a nice chap he is. He told me a little about working for Oink, his creative process and an interesting thing about round furry things.. I'm thinking of sending him a few questions about the strip, so look out for that (if he says yes, of course).

Here we see the strip's themes continuing to mature: First up we have Burp posing as President Reagan's brain repairman. 'Is the brain there please?' asks Burp,  'I can neither deny nor confirm the brain's presence' says the brain's spokesman. Next we have a dark, dark tale: the first appearance of Keith the animate teddy bear. This one has to be read to be believed. Also Burp in colour and Burp with some food spilled on the page (sorry about that, although it's somehow appropriate).





And as an extra treat, the Burp episodes from the first Oink annual and summer special. You'll notice that the contrast in the sophistication of the stories with the teddy bear episode etc and these stories is quite stark.

In my next post Burp moves to two pages, and by gosh it gets good.